Shadows of Gold
by Ladya C. Maxine
Summary: Middle Earth's greatest hoard of gold is fabled to be hidden Mirkwood. By order of his king, Aragorn embarks on a journey to retrieve it. However, it is said to be guarded by viscious Woodelves...DISCONTINUED
1. chapter one

Title: Shadows of Gold  
  
Authoress: Ladya C. Maxine  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Summary: The greatest treasure in Middle Earth is said to lay in the depths of the infamous Mirkwood. Aragorn, Chief Captain of Gondor, sets out, by order of the king, to claim the treasure as Gondor's. A task made difficult as it is said that the hoard is guarded by vicious Wood-elves.... Aragorn/Legolas AU slash fic.  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own LotR or any of its characters. All unrecognizable characters belong solely to me and are not to be touched. I am not making any money off of this and I write with the sole intention to entertain.  
  
A/N: Many of you who will read this story will surely pick up that its plotline follows that of Disney's 'Pocahontas'. I was watching that movie one day while babysitting and it sparked this idea in my head. Don't worry, there won't be any singing of lame songs or a raccoon following Legolas everywhere. ^_^  
  
***********  
  
"A treasure, my liege?" Aragorn, Captain of the Guard of Gondor, asked with a slightly raised brow.  
  
"The finest in all Middle Earth. Even the Dwarves, masters of all that hails from rock and earth, have long longed for it. It is legendary."  
  
"That may be so, but what has it done to garner your attention, my king?"  
  
"Such riches are never enough. No man can ever have too much wealth. To have such a hoard in these halls would establish Gondor as Middle Earth's grandest realm." Denethor grinned at the thought. It would go without saying that, of course, it would make him the grandest leader as well, something that was much craved in the world of Men.  
  
Not so easily convinced as his king, Aragorn said, "Forgive my questions, my lord, but where did you hear this tale?"  
  
"It is no mere tale!" he snapped at the younger man. "And a wizard's word is one to be trusted."  
  
"Saruman the White then?" This piques his interest. Wizards, indeed, never lied. But then again, some, like the Head of the Wizard's Order, never gave such information merely for a good cause. "And has the white wizard asked for something in return for his knowledge?"  
  
"That is none of your concern. I chose you because you are my most dependable soldier, but if this task is too much of a myth for you I can just as easily find another to lead the men."  
  
"My apologies, my lord," Aragorn bowed his head. "I live to serve you and the city of Gondor."  
  
"Hn," Denethor harumphed, walking back over to the desk which was covered with scrolls and volumes. "And I assume you know not where this hoard is."  
  
"Tales have spun wildly over the time, my lord. Some have gone into the depths of the Misty Mountains while others have foolishly risked the darkness of Mordor in their search. It seems that this treasure is as elusive as it is wonderuous. Had the White One not disclosed as to where it is?"  
  
Denethor unfurled a map, weighing down its edges with some of the many books that laid on his large desk, alongside scrolls and other maps.  
  
"Perhaps not so much elusive as feared." He pointed to its location on the map.  
  
Aragorn blinked as he read the elegantly scrawled name.  
  
"Mirkwood? Middle Earth's greatest treasure is hidden in its foulest forest?"  
  
"And guarded by its foulest creatures," Denethor sneered. "Wood-elves are said to have the treasure tightly in their filthy grasp."  
  
Aragorn held back a sigh. The legendary tales of the Wood-elves were things that parents used to discipline unruly children. Did the king truly believe in such fables?   
  
"Elves left Middle Earth millenia ago, my lord. The last time anyone ever saw an Elf was at the end of the Third Age. They have all sailed to the West."  
  
"Not these. Wood-elves are extremely primitive and viscious. They guard the treasure with the fierceness of ten dragons. None who entered beneath the shadowed canopies of Mirkwood have ever been seen again. Those savages take them as prisoners and leave them to rot in their dungeons."  
  
Not at all convinced but knowing it was pointless to continue his doubt, Aragorn decided to simply accept the task and retrieve this so-called treasure. In his mind he felt that neither treasure nor Wood-elves existed but once they returned empty handed Denethor was sure to see his folly and would return to ruling Gondor instead of listening to a wizard's wild tales.  
  
"Who are to accompany me on this journey, my lord?"  
  
"Your own choice of men. Bring those with bravery and skill. No less than five dozen soldiers and one dozen officers of higher ranks. Despite their fierceness the Wood-elves are said to be small in numbers and their feebled bows are no match for the swords of Gondor."  
  
"Date of departure?" Aragorn asked, already having thought up two dozen possible candidates for the quest. He would have to send a notice to Rohan...  
  
"You must have crossed the borders of the Dark Forest within five weeks, no later than September 26th. I leave the rest of the preparations over to you."  
  
"I will not fail you, Denethor King."  
  
"You have better not."   
  
He dismissed the captain with a flick of his wrist.  
  
************  
  
"Captain, look."   
  
A soldier ligthly touched Aragorn's arm, making him look up from where he had been adjusting Hasufel's saddle. His clear grey eyes widened but then narrowed suspiciously at the two figures who made their way through the throng of soldiers.  
  
"Prince Boromir. Prince Faramir," he nodded in respect and greeting as the king's sons came to stand before him, garbed in travel gear.  
  
Both stood tall and proud though Boromir, the eldest and heir to Denethor, was sturdier built and had a much more dominant air about him than his younger brother, whose body held slender, yet developed muscles. Unlike his father and brother, Faramir was soft spoken and not at all as conceited as the older royals. It was he that the soldiers, and Aragorn, served with the most honor.  
  
"It is not often that the Sons of Denethor make a suprised appearance. To what do we owe your presenses, my princes?"  
  
"We will accompany you," Boromir answered flatly, as stone-faced as ever. "The king has placed us in command of overseeing certain matters on your mission."  
  
Aragorn frowned at the new developement.  
  
"I was given complete command of this quest--"  
  
"And you still have it," Boromir cut in briskly, "You are to claim the treasure and return to Gondor. Our task is of a different nature and highly confidential."  
  
Something did not bode well with this but Boromir kept to his word and said no more.With an arrogant nod, the eldest prince walked off, Faramir close in tow though not before giving the older and more experienced soldier a respected nod and an almost apologetic look.  
  
"Don't trust it?"  
  
"Don't trust *him*," Aragorn defined as Eomer came to stand beside him, watching the brothers from a distance.  
  
"Just keep your mind on the task at hand. There is nothing in Mirkwood that is worth our fears, even though we have none. It is a dead place inhabited by a handful of fell beasts and loathsome scavengers. I am looking forward to taking on those Wood-elves with my sword."  
  
Though he still didn't believe in what many others, including his friend, did, Aragorn smiled at the blond's enthusiasme.   
  
The Rohirim had traveled hard with his group for more than a week to join them on their quest. Denethor had stressed that *all* of the treasure would be going to Gondor; no share was to be given out despite Rohan's unwanted aid.   
  
Nontheless, Eomer had volunteered his assistance. Not so much for the wealth as for the adventure. The soldier of the Riddermark was born to ride but his duties at Lord Theoden's side bound him to endless meetings in the Golden Halls of Meduseld. Any quest, regardless of its intentions, was a good enough excuse for him to leave the confiment of Edoras.  
  
"Had I not known you any better I would think you thirsty for blood," Aragorn accused with an amused smile, strapping his travel pack onto his steed's saddle.  
  
"Elven blood," Eomer specified, mimicking his friend as he himself loaded his rations onto his full bred steed's strong back. "I am most curious of these creatures. I've heard the legendary wisdom and fairness of the Elven kind."  
  
"Those are the Noldors who used to dwell in Middle Earth. Wood-elves are of the Silvan race."  
  
"You know quite enough for someone who doesn't believe in their existence."  
  
"I do believe in their existence, during the first three ages of our world. There are none left. Whatever lurks in Mirkwood are just wild animals who prey upon unfortunate travelers. Those foolish tales about them being taken prisoners by the Elves are children stories."  
  
Eomer stopped packing and leaned with one arm against his horse's side as he watched the captain of Gondor with a raised brow.  
  
"So you are about to embark upon a quest to find a treasure that you think fabled and to fight a race you think extinct?" He laughed, causing some of the other men to turn in curiosity. Boromir, already seated on his steed, simply sneered and turned his attention back to his second- in-command.  
  
"Did you not say that you would do *anything* to escape your uncles halls?" Aragorn pointed out. "A long journey out of Gondor is something I too need. Things are much more different being captain as they were when I was a ranger."  
  
"True are your words, Captain of Gondor. Then we best make haste in our departure." He mounted his steed swiftly and awaited as Aragorn did the same, which signaled the men to prepare to ride.  
  
They steered their steeds to the front of the group. Both princes were already there, Boromir on his mightily muscled horse, Grey Thunder. Faramir preferred to be as less noticable as possible, wearing none of the royal emblems or armor. His horse was a slender mare named Silver Wind and happened to be one of the fastest in Gondor. Still, her hidden power was overshadowed by Grey Thunder.  
  
Aragorn took his place at the head of the riders. Eomer, being the appointed second-in-command, stood beside his friend. Boromir, not so much due to his royalty as to dare the captain to say anything, moved to Aragorn's other side. His brother again next to him though he kept a few respectful steps back.  
  
Ignoring the eldest prince, Aragorn called outto the others.  
  
"In the name of the King of Gondor, we ride north!"  
  
With thundering hooves they departed, swiftly passing though the seven gates and steadily disappearing towards the horizon to face their quest, and whatever opponents that got in their way, with honor and drawn swords.  
  
tbc.................  
  
***********  
  
Read & Review, please. 


	2. chapter two

Title: Shadows of Gold  
  
Authoress: Ladya C. Maxine  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Summary: see chapter one  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any of its characters. Any unrecoginzable characters belong solely to me and are not to be touched. I am not making any money off of this and I writw the sole intention to entertain.  
  
*************  
  
The silence of the forest was disturbed by tentative footsteps as a large stag entered the clearing, its bluish-black coat blending it in well with the shadows of the ancient trees though its intricate antlers gleamed like ivory pearl in the few rays of sunlight that broke through the vast canopy above. Bulbuous dark eyes darted about before it lowered its head to drink from the almost perfectly circular pond, causing small ripples to spread out over the smooth surface.  
  
As it quenched its thirst it failed to take heed that it was not alone.  
  
Before and above the magestic beast, a shadowed figure crouched hidden in the tangles of large branches. Steady hands aimed the sword-sharp point of the arrow, fixing it between the stag's massive shoulder blades. Bright blue eyes narrowed as he prepared to fire the fatal projectile...  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
Startled by the other's undetectable approach and sudden voice, he released the arrow with a soft curse. It streaked through the air and embedded itself in the soft ground before the stag's feet. With a surprised bleet, the creature bolted, black body quickly engulfed by the shadows once more. The light of the antlers sparkled a final time before it too was gone.  
  
Whispering another curse, he turned guiltily to meet the inquiring eyes of his mentor.  
  
"Well?" Glorfindel folded his arms in waiting when no explanation came. "You said you would only be gone for half an hour. Your tutors have been waiting for two!"  
  
"I got distracted," Legolas said lamely, now avoiding the elder's eyes. "It just appeared out of nowhere. Very few have ever seen a Yena."  
  
"And was it simply a coincidence that you juts happened to have your weapons with you?"  
  
"One never goes into the woods unarmed," he defended himself though he knew the older blond was not believing him.  
  
Glorfindel regarded the youngster for a moment before sighing dissapointedly. Bright green eyes studied his charge's stunning blue ones.  
  
"Aren't you a bit too old to be making such childish excuses?"  
  
When the prince chose to leap out of the tree instead of answering, Glorfindel sighed again but followed him. Landing on the moss covered ground softly, he straightened, sharp eyes easily catching the shimmering gold of the young noble's golden hair as the prince walked. Catching up, he walked in stride with the prince.   
  
A few moments passed before Legolas spoke.  
  
"I had gone hunting for the Yena," he finally admitted.  
  
"I see. Indeed, such a task is very difficult. Catching a Yena proves one's skills. And strength. Qualities that prove that one knows how to take care of oneself..."  
  
Legolas' head lowered as he pretended to check the end of bow silently.  
  
"You were trying to prove something. To someone," Glorfindel said insightfully.  
  
"He treats me like a child, Glorfindel!" Legolas gave in to what was bothering him.  
  
"You *are* his child."  
  
"I reached my majority 50 years ago. I think I have the right to decide my own life."  
  
"You can, mellonin. But your father is doing what he believes is best for you--"  
  
"Giving my hand to Haldir of Lorien?!" Legolas asked increduously, voice carrying frustration and helplesness. "That's what's best for me?"  
  
"What is wrong with Haldir? He is brave, intelligent, dependable..."  
  
"....has no sense of humor, cares only for diplomacy, is full of himself--"  
  
"He's not full of himself," Glorfindel cut him off.  
  
"Well...not yet."  
  
"I know he isn't your idea of a perfect mate, but atleast give him a chance. He really loves you, Legolas," he said, tone sincere.  
  
Legolas slowed his walk to a halt, blue eyes filled with confused emotions.  
  
"I...," he sighed and shut his eyes, "I...I know that Haldir means well and he would no doubt make a good husband. But not for me. We are so different from one another. I cannot begin to imagine spending the rest of my life with a mate who doesn't even enjoy a walk amongst nature. His mind is set only on political things or other dull subjects."  
  
"He *is* the heir of Lothlorien. Should his father cross the waters the remaining Elves would need to depend on him. He needs to be able to lead them and support you as well, should you agree to the marraige arangements, of course."  
  
"Which I won't, of course."  
  
"Prince Legolas, you are being very unreasonable," Glorfindel chastised softly. "You father is to ail to the west soon with Elrond but he refuses to leave until he is assured that he would be leaving you in good hands."  
  
A new thought came to mind and Glorfindel narrowed his eyes slightly.  
  
"Haldir is just one of the many potential mates you've turned down. You simply refuse to accept another." Studying the blue eyes, he asked, "Are you doing this to keep your father here?"  
  
His breath caught in his throat with a guilty sob and after a long moment's hesitation, he nodded.  
  
Glorfindel sighed, something he was doing a lot lately.  
  
"You are denying him his happiness. The sea calls him, as well as his lover, but he wants to be sure that you will be happy until you too set sail in the future."  
  
"But I *am* happy. I'm happy with him here. I don't want him to leave...I don't want to lose another one. He's all I have left from our family."  
  
Cupping a smooth cheek, Glorfindel watched with sympathy as large tears rolled down.  
  
"It is hard to let go of someone you loves, especially when you are not ready to do so. But your father has raised you with all his strength, love and time. Now it is his time."  
  
"Why can't I sail with him then? Why must I stay?"  
  
"Your duties in Middle Earth have not yet been completed. You are still bound to these lands." When the younger blond didn't reply he wrapped an arm around the slender shoulders. "And I will be here with you. I know I can never live up to your father, but I will try. I have helped raise you since you were a mere babe and I have never cared for another as much as I care for you."  
  
Through his tears, he finally smiled. A smile that had captured, and still held, the hearts of all with its honesty and beauty.  
  
"I truly appreciate that. And don't underestimate how important you are to me. You have been my closest friend since the day I was born." His smile grew wider as the tears dried. "Infact, had this not been the case, I would have happily bound myself to you 50 years ago."  
  
"Don't jest this ancient heart, my prince; the temptation is too great," Glorfindel laughed.  
  
In the darkening night the torches that lined the forest paths slowly blazed to life as if by magic, throwing them into flickering shades of yellow and red that danced over their golden hair.  
  
"Legolas, I grew worried."  
  
Forcing himself not to groan, Legolas smiled and turned to face the silver-haired Elf who walked down the palace steps to meet them. Light gray eyes held years of experience but no mirth. In the twenty years he had known him, Legolas had never seen the prince of Lothlorien smile; small smirk once every two moons, but nothing more.  
  
"No one could find you," Haldir said, coming to stand before the younger royal, a good five inches taller than Legolas and his body not as slender due to centuries of battles and training. There was no doubt that Haldir was exceptionally handsome, but his face was always so serious...  
  
"I needed some fresh air," Legolas half-lied. Beside him he heard Glorfindel snort softly but the elder said nothing more. "Perhaps you could join me tomorrow? It is very relaxing," he informed, hoping to break the ice though so far he had never been succesful.  
  
And his luck wasn't about to change anytime soon.  
  
"My duties call upon me. I am needed for a council with Lord Celeborn and his advisors tomorrow," Haldir replied, not at all thinking it queer to adress his own father by his title.  
  
Legolas often wondered at the relationship between parents and child. Celeborn and Galadriel were good and decent beings but they had raised Haldir to be their heir, not their son. The bond he himself treasured with his father had never formed amongst the Lothlorien royals. Perhaps this was the reason why Haldir lacked most, if not all, emotions.  
  
"However, dinner will soon be served and I would very much appreciate you company."  
  
Sighing inwardly in defeat, Legolas nodded mutely and allowed the mithril-haired Elf to escort him towards the great dining hall. Glorfindel followed them, silently symphasizing with his blond charge.  
  
tbc............  
  
************  
  
I know, I know: How can there be Lothlorien Elves in this story when in chapter one it was said that the only Elves remaining were those of Mirkwood? Simply put; Mankind doesn't really know much about them. Even Aragorn doesn't know all the details.  
  
Read & Review, please. 


	3. chapter three

Title: Shadows of Gold  
  
Authoress: Ladya C. Maxine  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Summary: see chapter one  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own LotR or any of its characters. All unrecognizable characters belong solely to me so do not touch. I am not making any money off of this and I write with the sole intention to amuse.  
  
A/N: see my bio-page for other updates.  
  
************  
  
Aragorn stood alone, dark hair blowing softly as he gazed at the dark treeline in the near distance. Behind him the soldiers slept or kept watch. His hearing, unnaturally keen for a Man, picked up the soft murmurs of a few who were still awake, discussing their quest, the gold and the eagerness to spill the blood of the savages.  
  
He also heard when footsteps came up behind him, stopping a few feet from where he stood.  
  
"Mirkwood's trees are darker than the night sky," Faramir observed.  
  
"Aye, for there is no more light of hope within those shadowed branches." He turned to face the younger man, frowning softly at the distance between them. "You need not keep distance from a mere captain, my prince. And your company is always welcomed."  
  
After a moment's hesitation, Faramir stepped up next to him though keeping his eyes trained on the vast woods that laid before them.  
  
"This is my first time so far from home," Faramir admitted, "It is my brother who sees to important tasks, traveling to many lands. I must admit that I am a bit excited to be here."  
  
Aragorn smiled; the young prince was more than just 'a bit' excited but didn't want to appear overeager before him.   
  
"This is my first journey to these woods. I know not what we will find and that is always exciting."  
  
Having never had a casual conversation with the captain, mainly due to his father's and brother's obvious dislike to mingle with non-royals, Faramir dared to continue, voice soft as always.  
  
"When I was a young boy I was told tales of the Wood-elves. How they differed greatly from their brethren, the Noldors who had sailed the waters and returned wiser and fairer. Many say that the Wood-elves have lost all fairness, it having been devoured by the shadows. My brother says that they have infact become Orcs."  
  
Not about to ridicule Faramir's brother in the younger man's presence, Aragorn merely raised a brow. Realizing that Faramir awaited his response, he chose his words carefully.  
  
"We all have our own visions of these beings. Some more accurate than others though we have no proof that any of us are right. Personally, I find the chances that Wood-elves do exist close to none."  
  
"Strange words for one who accepted this mission then, is it not?" Boromir asked, appearing seemingly out of no where. Nearing them, he gave Faramir a disaproving look before turning his eyes back on the captain.  
  
"I serve your father and I obey his commands. Yet I do not necesarily have to agree with them."  
  
"Do you think my father a fool? That he simply believes everything he hears?"  
  
"I did not say that."  
  
"But you meant it. You may be in command of this mission but my father values my word over yours. You will do good to show him the rightful respect he deserves, commoner."  
  
All his life he had worked in the palace and served his king, having been found wandering in the wilderness outside of Gondor at the age of six, abandoned and starving. He was given the duty of stable boy but that was all he had needed to rapidly climb his way up. At the age of 16 he was made a soldier of Gondor, his skills with a blade had even impressed the king himself. A few years later he had reached his rank of captain.   
  
Such a rapid ascend had earned him respect from all, except the heir of Gondor. As a child Boromir always got things his way and strove for attention. After hearing how Aragorn, a orphaned commoner, became a great swordsman, the eldest prince was hard pressed to surpass him. However, though the prince's sword skills were very good, they could never compare with Aragorn's. That had driven the stake of jealousy into the prince's heart and the gap had only grown larger over the years, jealousy turning to hatred.  
  
"Everyone has a right to speak their opinions, Boromoir," Faramir defended his captain.  
  
The elder brother merely scoffed but allowed the matter to drop. As conceited and cold-hearted as he was, he still cared for his younger brother, though he would never admit it.  
  
"This is why father wishes you to not talk to the simpletons; you believe too easily." The words weren't harsh but they did hold disaproval. Turning to Aragorn, his sneer appeared once more but he asked, "And what are your plans now, captain? The camp has been established so what will you have the men do tomorrow?"  
  
"We will scout the outer border, study the situation rather than charging in blindly. We have arrived earlier than expected and the date your father gave me is still a week away, which gives us more time to familiarize ourselves with the woods."  
  
"The soldiers of Gondor, sneeking about like cowarding mice?"  
  
"That is the plan. Savages or not, I will not risk my men's lives eagerly."  
  
Boromir glared but then scoffed and turned away, striding back to his tent where his second-in-command waited anxiously. The tent flap fell shut.  
  
"He wishes only to please our father; he is not a very easy man to please," Faramir defended his brother's actions.  
  
"I believe that. Still, though the point of this mission is to retrieve the gold my first priority lies in the safety of my men."  
  
Faramir nodded but remained silent, deep in thought over something.  
  
"Captain Aragorn...if you would just do as if for a moment and say that Wood-elves do live within that forest...do you think it right to simply invade their home and take what is theirs?"  
  
He blinked, not having expected the question. Especially not from one of the royals, though Faramir wasn't like his brother and father. Once again, he chose his words carefully.  
  
"If Wood-elves indeed dwell beneath those black branches and have indeed been the cause of many deaths, then my answer would be 'no'." He smiled at the younger man's surprised look. "There is not a race in Middle-earth left that doesn't do what is necesary to protect itself. Even Gondor has shedded the blood of peasants and innocents. Folk will look back to our quest and think nothing of the death of immortal beings in exchange for gold and fame."  
  
Impressed by the captain's insights, Faramir nodded.  
  
"You speak with much knowledge. More so than any Man I have ever heard, even my father. Who was your tutor in Gondor?"  
  
"I had none. I've worked and fought all my life in Gondor."  
  
The discussion was nearing personal yet Faramir was curious; not much was known of the captain's life before his arrival in Minas Tirith. The man never spoke of his past.  
  
"I know what it is you ask yourself, my prince," Aragorn said when he heard the silence, "but I fear I cannot answer for I myself know not of the life I had before I swore my service to your father. It feels as if I never existed before that time."  
  
"I was once told by an old woman that when someone forgets something it is usually something rather spectacular. Mayhap your early childhood was one of an amazing nature."  
  
"Mayhap..." Aragorn mused, eyes absently turning to the skies. "I suppose I will never truly know."  
  
Sensing the captain's need to be alone, Faramir cleared his throat.  
  
"My brother may need my assitance so I should be taking my leave."  
  
Aragorn nodded and inclined his head to the young royal.  
  
"It has been a pleasure and an honor speaking with you, my lord."  
  
"Like wise," he replied with a smile and after a few moments hesitation he patted the captain on his back before turning and walking towards the tent his brother had retired to not too long ago.  
  
Aragorn smiled softly before redirecting his gaze to the dark treelines though his thoughts were now adrift. He never told anyone, but he did remember a few things of his hidden past. They were but glimpses and pieces of memories but they were enough for him to wish for his former childhood. Voices. He heard voices of his past; one in particular, whose tone was that of wisdom and kindness. He could never put a face on the voice but he felt a familiar pull on his heart every time it spoke. And a scent, though he could not iddentify it.  
  
"I will never know..."  
  
*************  
  
"You were rather quiet this evening."  
  
Legolas didn't need to look away from the panoramic view of the forest to know who it was who came to stand beside him. The strong scent of berries and pine and the warm feeling of comfort was always more than enough.  
  
"I suppose I did not have much to say, ada."  
  
The blond king raised a brow but only leaned next to his son against the railing of the balcony. For the longest while they stood in comfortable silence, taking in the night sounds and the stars' music.  
  
"Haldir aproached me after the meal," Thranduil spoke up softly, continuing despite the tired sigh his son made, "He worries about you. All he wants is to see you happy but you sulk and mope whenever you are in his presence."  
  
"I try my best not to, ada, but how can I pretend to be happy when my heart is so obviously not."  
  
Now it was Thranduil's turn to sigh tiredly, though he felt it much more than his son.   
  
Hearing the sound, Legolas looked worriedly over at his father. The older Elf looked weary despite his eternally youthful and fair face. But in his grass-green eyes Legolas could see the strain of hardship and he loathed himself for only contributing more upon his father's shoulders; his father, who had done nothing but love and care for him all his life, always putting his son's needs before his.  
  
"I'm sorry, ada. I did not wish to make you upset."  
  
Shaking his head, Thranduil pulled his only child into a deep embrace, kissing the smooth brow gently.  
  
"Your father loves you, Legolas. Nothing you do could ever upset him."  
  
Both blonds turned to the newcomer who silently aproached them, long robes making the only sound as they brushed the plush rug. Silver eyes deep with endless wisdom shone in the candle lights as he stepped onto the terrace.  
  
"My sons on the other hand..."  
  
Thranduil chuckled at his lover's sigh.   
  
"Surely there wasn't too much damage."  
  
Elrond gave him a exasperated look but smiled himself.  
  
"Atleast there were no broken bones, this time. The unfortunate aspect of that is that they will be healed by tomorrow morn and will go on another ridiculous adventure. I had assumed that they would tire of hunting wargs and spiders after so many years."  
  
"They certainly have inherited one of your more obvious traits; persistence."  
  
"You mock me, Golden King?" Elrond raised a brow as he rested an arm around the other's waist.  
  
"That's up to you to decide," was the smirking reply.  
  
Legolas watched the two elders' bantering with a soft smile. He was happy for his father. As strong as their father-son relationship was, Thranduil's love for Elrond was also a key factor that helped heal the heart ache the golden king had suffered at the loss of his beloved wife whose immortal life had been drastically cut short at the jaws of a pack of wargs. His father had remained strong and in Middle-earth for the sake of his then toddling greenleaf but inside he was lonely and mourning.   
  
The time of the Elves had ended yet there were few that still remained. Without their numbers and wariors, their lands had been overrun and claimed by Men and Orcs, forcing them to flee. Rivendell, having been so well known and open to many, had eventualy been claimed by Rohan and Elrond and what remained of his people had sought refuge in Mirkwood, which was the only Elven realm untouched for Men feared it.   
  
Neither elven lords had ever met one another but the attraction had been obvious the moment their eyes locked. They would spend many hours together, talking or riding, but Legolas was never jealous; the sparkle in his father's eyes had shone brighter and brighter as the days went by and his smile had grown wider, even into laugher. No wizard's magic could have ever cured the king like the love offered to him by the peredhil.  
  
"I will go check on the twins," Legolas said, wanting to give his father and lover their privacy. "Goodnight."  
  
Elrond nodded but his father gathered him in another embrace, kissing his temple and whispering softly, "Goodnight, my son. All will be well."  
  
Nodding, he was released and quietly made his way out. For a moment he turned to regard the two. His father had returned to Elrond's strong embrace and both stood there contently staring up at the night sky, the lore lord's long fingers gently running through his father's golden hair as Elrond spoke of the stars.  
  
A small tug on his heart made Legolas wince but he ignored it and started down the hall, noting strangely how cold and lonesome it felt.  
  
tbc...............  
  
**************  
  
Read & Review, please. 


	4. chapter four

Title: Shadows of Gold

Authoress: Ladya C. Maxine

Rating: Pg-13

Summary: see chapter one

Warning(s): see chapter one

Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR or any of its characters. Any and all unrecognizable characters belong solely to me and are not to be touched. I am not making any money off of this and I write with the sole intention to entertain.

A/N: Holy crap! An update!!

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"Captain, we have surrounded the perimeters. Shall I issue the men to move in?"

Aragorn simply nodded, eyes trained on the darkness that seemed to wrap itself around the gangly tree trunks. To his left he noticed Faramir shifting from one leg to the next, the excitement obvious in the young man's eyes. His older brother was far more at ease yet he observed the forest before them with immense concentration and determination. Something in the icy green orbs was unnerving but he ignored it.

"Station yourself within sight of the camp."

Watching them slowly disappear into the shadow, he felt a slight sense of dread slowly trickle down his spine.

"Take Brego," he said, handing the reins to the soldier next too him who accepted it albeit with some confusing.

"Sir?"

"I will scout deeper. Should anything occur you will all withdraw immediately and return to the camp grounds."

"Yes, sir."

"You would abandon your post?" Boromir asked with disdain.

"I would join my men in their search rather than sit back and wait, your Highness," Aragorn replied with practised calm. Not giving the royal chance to retort, he nodded to his second-in-command and to Faramir before turning and striding off into the tree line.

"You need not question his motives, brother. He has experience and knows--" Faramir tried to reason but the heir of Gondor would have none of it.

"He is but an orphan peasant," Boromir snapped heatedly, "I have all rights to question his absurd rulings. Should I leave him to his biddings our troops will fall to ruins."

Faramir knew it folly to try to make his brother see differently. Sighing is resignation he turned, watching the captain's back as it melted into the darkness out of view.

"Are we not going to wait for the love of your life, Legolas?"

The blond prince glared at the snickering twins where they sat on their mounts, waiting for him.

"Haldir is currently attending a meeting."

"So what else is new?" Elladan rolled his eyes. "Perhaps you will have to move your wedding bed into the main council chamber. Just remember to draw the canopy drapes; you know, for the decency of the other members."

Elrohir, the youngest and more sympathetic of the two, sometimes, pretended to comb an invisible knot out of his horse's mane with his fingers, bowing his head to hide his amusement while his brother openly grinned at the smaller blond elf.

Glowering at his two best friends, Legolas swung up onto his steed and steered it past the two peredhils, leaving the twins to curb their laugher and prod their mounts into an easy trot to catch up before coming on either side.

"Forgive us, Legolas," Elrohir apologised first, reaching out to tuck a golden strand behind the pointed ear. "We mean not to make you upset."

"Don't we?"

Elrohir shot a warning look at his brother who sighed, finally turning somewhat more serious.

"Aye, Greenleaf, we know this is hard for you." The tone indicated that he had wanted to add something else, no doubt another jest along that line, but Elrohir was still frowning at him so he bit his tongue and remained silent.

The tree cantered through the palace gates and down the winding path that lead into the forests. Their horses knew this route by heart and needed not to be steered, which gave the trio more time to themselves.

"I should be used to your sense of humour by now," Legolas said after a while of silence. "I believe that I have but…I find myself growing more and more tense with every day. Time should have no meaning for our kind but my days of freedom seem so short yet I fear once I wed each day will pass with the length of a year. Ai Elbereth, why am I bound to such a fate?"

"It is for your people's sake, Greenleaf. Greenwood is the last of the elven sanctuaries in Middle-Earth and until the last elves have sailed the waters they will need someone to lead them. And look of this way; if uncle Haldir becomes too intolerable you can always come to us."

Legolas smiled faintly at that.

"You'd speak of a family member in such a tone, Elladan Peredhil?"

The eldest of the three snorted in a un-elf-like way.

"He may have been our mother's brother but that doesn't make him my favourite person in the world either."

"No, you prefer grandfather because he used to let you eat sweets when we'd go visit them in the Golden Woods when we were elflings," Elrohir quipped, earning himself a playful shove that almost dismounted him.

Watching as the two brothers laughingly attempted to knock the other off their horses, Legolas allowed himself a respite from his worries to laugh along with them while keeping a safe distance; neither twins had any quells against dragging innocent bystanders into their fray when said bystander was within arm's reach.

Legolas had never met Lady Celebrian, wife of Elrond who had passed away many centuries before the Rivendell elves sought refuge in Greenwood. Her family remembered her as a free-spirited and pleasant lady who had loved her husband and children dearly. Which meant that Celebrian must have been the black sheep in her Lothlorien family for the royals of the Golden Woods were not at all as outgoing.

In all fairness, Legolas attributed age and hardship as the main causes for the somewhat distant behaviour of Lord Celeborn and the Lady Galadriel. The ancient rulers were by no means unpleasant and have lead many an interesting conversation at his father's dinner table. And, as Elrohir had mentioned earlier, Celeborn loved his grandsons dearly. Galadriel too, of course, but she chose for a more reserved way of expressing her affections.

Still, it was no secret that the Lord and Lady of the Golden Woods were more open to their grandchildren than their own offspring. Elrohir had confided in Legolas that when Elrond had first met Celebrian she had been unused to being touched or shown much affection as she had received neither from her own parents. Haldir, as Celebrian's older brother, had been of little aid to his sister for her himself had been raised by the same treatment. Not that their parents hated or ignored them, but rather because they wanted to ensure that their children would recognize their roles of leaders as soon as possible. After Celebrian's passing Haldir had been pushed harder and harder to fulfil his duties and, admittedly, he was living up to the expectations, though at the price of his adolescent years and all the joy those years offered.

An irritated neigh brought Legolas out of his musings as Elladan's horse, Dagorlith, came up alongside his in spite of Elladan's insistence for the beast to go back. The horse had grown tired of the brothers' banter and had decided to take it upon itself to separate the two for a while. Elven horses were quite unique in this sense as they were highly intellectual and understood when they were spoken to; whether they'd always obey was another matter. Each had its own distinctive nature.

"Hm," Elladan grumbled at the steed's stubbornness. "I'm sure Asfaloth would have been more agreeable to our little discussion."

Considering how well Elladan knew horses and how long he'd had this one, that had been an extremely foolish thing to say, jest or not. The mere hint of his rider preferring Glorfindel's pure white steed to him clearly did not appeal to Dagorlith whose ears flattened into its ebony mane. Before Elladan could even make peace with his steed the creature gave a bellowing neigh and suddenly took off, charging the down the path despite Elladan's pleas.

Legolas chuckled though sharing a look with Elrohir both spurred their horses to follow. Sooner or later Dagorlith would decide that its owner had been punished enough; this hadn't been the first time the horse had pulled off such a stunt. And Dagorlith had never failed to end his little antics with a strong buck which resulted in Elladan either landing in a pile of leaves or a convenient stream. In the end, it was great amusement for everyone but Elladan.

'_I will no longer be able to do any of this once I am married off to Haldir_…' Legolas thought glumly as he rode alongside Elrohir. _'Father…do you truly believe this to be the best for me?'_

"Come, Legolas! I want to be there to witness my brother's fall from grace first hand!!" Elrohir laughed, having galloped ahead.

"Aye!" he responded, his smile returning as he pushed his steed faster, trailing the youngest peredhil as they followed Elladan's frantic cries further and further into the forest, away from the palace and any worries.

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Aragorn effortlessly navigated through the knots of trees and brambles, keen eyes spotting any fallen branches that could give away his position. Falling into a smooth crouch, he studied the dirt path and its many tracks. Tracking was one of his specialities, which was rather peculiar since he had never been taught such skills in Gondor. Still, where others would have simply seen ground and debris, he was able to make out dozens of different tracks. Most belonged to small animals and occasionally birds though a set of larger, deep paw prints indicated that a lone Warg had been by but four days ago.

"Unbelievable…" he muttered, rising to stand straight.

In a way Mirkwood lived up to as well as disregarded the myths and tales. Dark it was indeed, but not dead. The trees were gnarled and their branches were entwined to block out most sunlight but rays still shown through the canopy, reflecting off the bright green leaves to cast the entire area beneath them in an emerald glow that was both haunting yet mesmerizing. Tiny white gnats floated in the light like small diamonds, contrasting starkly with the black butterflies that fluttered about it large groups. Squirrels, some red, some black, watched him from the branches, hopping over thick webs, mindful of their makers who slept during the day in hollowed logs.

This forest was alive and so different from Gondor. Apart from the natural wildlife though he had seen no signs of the elves, which he hadn't expected to find but couldn't help feeling slightly disappointed as well. It would have been rather interesting to meet one of those folk. Walking on, he kept to the trees. He knew he was a long way away from the rest of the troops but his hearing was sharp as was his sword and aim.

While the air was clear it was rather dense and his clothes had begun to cling to his body not too long after entering the woods. His dark hair was plastered to his skull and sweat dripping from his chin onto his armour. Concentrating, he was able to pick up the sound of a stream of sorts not too far off. A drink would do him good as he needed to refill his water skin anyways. Mind made up, he started towards his intended destination before a sudden sound made him drop down, eyes wide in anticipation as he scanned about the trees.

Hoof beats were thundering closer, along with shouts. At first he thought them to be his own men but the voices didn't sound like the soldiers. Instead of low and deep these were clear and musical, though at the moment they seemed rather upset about something. Words he didn't understand were yelled above the constant neighing. And, unless he was mistaken, there was laughter as well.

While he could hear this all, nothing stirred in the woods, the sounds echoing around trunks and bouncing off branches and leaves but their source didn't materialize. He was able to separate three different hoof beats by now and they seemed to be passing right alongside him but there was nothing there but a few butterflies.

As quickly as it had started, it ended as well, rapidly fading as it moved on, away from him. He waited several more minutes before rising to his feet, confused at the whole event.

"These woods are enchanted."

Unable to shake off his experience but in need of that drink, he continues on towards the river though with more caution now, ears and eyes on full alert with each step he took though he encountered nothing larger than a hare whose large eyes were as black as its fur.

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Legolas opened his eyes, frowning softly as he sat up from where he had been laying on the flat rock near the stream. Pointed ears peaked, he clucked softly, calling Windarin from where she had been contently quenching her thirst with the cold water from the bubbling stream. With a soft neigh, she trotted over, curios at her master's serious expression.

He scanned the surroundings and was soon able to pinpoint the source of the footsteps as they approached his location. The fact that they were so loud indicated that it wasn't an elf. While the twins, being half-elven, walked louder than full elves, their training had reduced that effect drastically. Besides, he wasn't expecting them back so soon. After the anticipated dismounting of Elladan Elrohir had commented towards his sore brother, which made Elladan jump right back on Dagorlith, who was now content, and give chase to his younger brother. Legolas had decided not to pursue and had instead lead Windarin to the stream where he'd wait for them once they return, having ruffled the other sufficiently enough.

From Elladan's threats Legolas had concluded that he'd have to wait for some time, so that meant that this was a stranger. No orc, the footsteps weren't shuffled or awkward. Instead they were steady yet cautious. In fact, they actually did remind him of the twins. This was a heavier footed being that was walking quieter.

"Windarin, to the trees," he whispered, petting her ear. "Into the trees, on the other side of the river, and stay there until I call you. And keep silent."

She murmured a soft neigh and trotted away, crossing the shallow stream and soon vanishing amongst the trunks. He knew she wasn't far but the near magical sphere of the forest had an infamous trick that could obscure things beneath its branches. Only the eagle-sharp eyes of the elves could see through this deception.

Assured that she was safe, Legolas grabbed his bow and arrows and quickly made his way towards the trees on his side of the stream, leaping in a single bound high into the branches where he settled, fully at home in this high perch. Moving with snapping a single twig, he found a suitable spot that overlooked both the path as well as stream and waited, arrow fitted on the bow string and ready to fly. He didn't have to wait long.

While not a common sight, especially this deep in the forest, Legolas was able to recognize the creature as that belonging to the race of man. Lowering his bow slightly, he watched the stranger slowly step out of the denser tree line, approaching the stream with wary caution. This was something new. While he recognized the man, mainly through his studies and tales from older elves, he had never seen one in person.

He was still young, despite his passing into maturity, and finally curiosity outweighed suspicion. Replacing the arrow, he trailed the dark person until he was almost right above him. Being this close gave him a clearer view of the man. He was so…different.

His hair was dark, like the twins', but far shorter, the tips just reaching his shoulders, which were much wider than an elf's. His body, clad in dark leathers and armour, was tall and powerful, not at all like the slender built of the immortals. Experience was evident on his sun tanned face but it was his eyes that reflected intellect.

A man. A member of a race which was responsible for the destruction of the Golden Woods and the Last Homely House. One of the many who had driven Legolas' kin to near extinction in Middle Earth. Mankind was almost a taboo amongst the remaining elves. All Legolas could recall hearing from seasoned warriors was the insatiable greed for riches and power that was manifested deep within the mortal's hearts which were as stony and cold as their cities. Mankind destroyed to get what they want and they made sure they got it, even if it was of no great interest in them.

'_He is a threat to my people; I cannot allow him to go any further…'_ Legolas confirmed, pushing any other thought on the stranger away. Greenwood was the only sanctuary the Elves had left and he was going to defend it at all costs.

'_Forgive me, Edain. Whatever your intentions are, the safety of my people cannot be endangered.'_

Drawing the arrow once more, he took aim, determined to at least finish the man off instantly without making him suffer. Aligning the sharp point with the dark head, he pulled back on the string for a moment before, with a soft exhale, he released. The arrow flew true, cutting through the air as it sped to its target.

Legolas' blue eyes widened in stunned shock, though, when, without indication, the man drew his sword and turned with enough reflexes to strike the deadly projectile out of the air, slicing the shaft in half. The two pieces fell to the ground with muted clatter but neither paid attention to that.

Silvery grey eyes locked with his blue pair as the man spotted him, strong hands still holding the gleaming sword in strike position.

Tbc…………..

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Edain: human, man.

A/N: please visit my bio-page for some important announcements!!

Read & Review, please.


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